


Mrs. Hudson Returns

by whispersofafangirl



Series: Sherlock and Abby [2]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Kissing, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispersofafangirl/pseuds/whispersofafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As September approaches, Abigail worries about the reaction her aunt, Mrs. Hudson, will have about her relationship with Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mrs. Hudson Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bustybarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bustybarnes/gifts).



> Author's Note: This is a continuation of "Case of the Cellist in 221C". While I had planned out a proper fic (and even posted a chapter earlier), it just wasn't working for me so I decided Sherlock and Abby needed at the very least a one-shot. I may or may not do another one but I guess it depends on the response I get or if I can figure out a new mystery (it's hard to write Sherlock without a case!).
> 
> Anyway, if you've read "Case of the Cellist", I hope you enjoy this one-shot. Thank you :)

The hot, sticky days of summer were slowly disappearing and turning into fall. By the end of August, Abigail’s run with the play’s orchestra was coming to the end. Soon, Mrs. Hudson would return and Abigail would have a lot of explaining to do. 

Memories of early summer haunted her mind many nights, including visions of Tina getting killed. Two or three nights a week, Abigail had nightmares about the incident. Fortunately, she found comfort in Sherlock almost every time she awakened in a cold sweat. He would wrap his arms around her and pull her protectively against his chest. Sherlock placed kisses on her tear stained cheeks and would whisper to her that everything would be ok.

Abigail still struggled. Secretly, she started to see a therapist. A feeling of weakness had settled on her shoulders. She needed to someone to say that she could stay sober and that the dreams would go away. Sherlock, of course, knew what she did every Monday at 2 pm but never said anything about it. All he wanted for Abigail was for her to find some peace and heal.

Closing night of the orchestra brought on intense emotions for Abigail. The final goodbyes of all the musicians and actors felt overwhelming. Several people mentioned Tina to her. Before the party even got started, Abigail snuck out and found Sherlock standing by the backstage door, waiting for you. 

“I didn’t expect you here,” she said as she fumbled with the cello case and her bag. 

“Yes, I know. I thought you would enjoy company on the ride home. I’m glad you didn’t stay long,” he said as he took the cello from her and they walked to the busy street. 

“I didn’t want to,” Abigail said. “Those parties can get crazy.”

Sherlock hailed a cab so they could head home. “Mrs. Hudson will be returning this week,” he said, trying to change the subject. 

“Yes, I know. Just a few days. It should be interesting. I don’t even know how I’m going to explain all of this.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to anyone, Abigail,” Sherlock replied. 

“Of course I do, she’s my Aunt. My only living relative. It’s important,” Abigail said as she looked out the window to watch the city lights flash by. 

“Are you genuinely concerned about her opinion of us?” Sherlock asked, despite knowing the answer. 

Abigail turned and reached for his hand. “I just want people to be happy for us. I don’t care about Sergeant Donovan or Anderson... or even Greg. But for my Aunt to be genuinely happy for us... that would feel nice.”

Sherlock didn’t need anyone to approve of anything he did but he knew it was important to Abigail. He squeezed her hand gently and brought it up to his lips. “You should know, Abby, there are people happy for us. John and Mary.”

Abigail smiled when he mentioned their dear friends. “I know,” she said. “I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

“You’ve been anxious since June,” he stated. “I hope her return brings you some peace.”

At home, Abigail brewed tea and set out biscuits. Sherlock was sitting at the microscope, recording details of his current experiment on a chart. Their relationship, while baffling to most, was one of understanding. Abigail accepted his mood swings and dramatics. He accepted her need for being alone at times and the occasional moodiness. They both had boundaries and quirks that would require understanding and patience. 

Abigail kicked off her heels and sat down to watch the news alone. She popped a chocolate digestive biscuit in her mouth before taking a sip of tea. By the end of the program, Sherlock was standing in front of her and held his hand out. “Come to bed,” he said quietly. 

She looked up at him with surprise because he usually worked until early morning. “You are finished?” she asked as she stood up. 

“Yes.” 

Her eyebrow lifted then his smirk answered her question. “Oh.”

The lights and telly were left on. He never gave a second thought to locking up for the night as it was usually her routine to make sure the flat was secure and extra lights turned off. 

Sherlock led her to the bedroom. As they entered, he walked behind her to slowly unzip her dress. She felt his hot breath on her neck and then his full lips began to place quick, soft kisses on her spine. Abigail trembled as his mouth moved her shoulders and he sucked her sensitive skin into his warm mouth as his hands started to remove her bra. 

She sighed loudly and felt her knees wobble slightly as his fingers grazed her breasts, teasing her hard nipples. She leaned back against him and he protectively pulled her against him into an embrace.  
His face nuzzled against her hair and Sherlock let out a soft moan as he smelled the fruity notes of her hair. Every detail about her was cemented in his mind. He knew exactly where each freckle was. He could close his eyes and find the exact spot on her hip that he could tickle that would drop her to the floor in a laughing frenzy. He could also pick out each spot that she felt self-conscious about like the faded, silver stretch marks on the top of her thighs that she cringed at when he kissed her there or her inner thighs that were in her words “too fat”. To him, everything was as it should be. She would be perfect to him even if she didn’t think so.

“Abby,” he murmured against her ear as her hand reached up and touched his cheek. she turned to face him and on her tippy-toes, she lifted up to claim his lips with hers. 

He wrapped his hands around her and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him and he carried her to the edge of the bed, never breaking their hungry kissing. He leaned over and set her on the edge. She watched as he removed his shirt then trousers. A cute smile formed on her face as he walked back over to her and her hands pushed his belly up to her face. She kissed his belly button and just above the waistband of his white boxers.

He watched as she pulled his pants down. Her hands slid up his thighs, lightly tickling his upper thighs. “I love your thighs,” she whispered as she leaned forward and kissed until she reached his hip bone. 

His long fingers pulled hair away from her chestnut hair out of her face. She grinned up at him before returning her attention to his hip then his belly again, completely aware that she was teasing him. His cock twitched up towards her chin as she kissed the trail of hair just below his belly button. “Abby,” he called out, her name sounding like a plea. 

She held him in both of her hands and flicked her tongue against the head, tasting the saltiness of him. She moaned with him this time- the feeling of giving pleasure to him felt just as good as receiving it. Her mouth began to work it’s way up and down his shaft, lingering at the head just long enough to lavish attention on it with her tongue. Her eyes peeked up at his face and they watched each other until the pleasure got too much for him and his eyes snapped shut. His head tilted back now as she worked with her hand and mouth, moving in slow unison. 

Sherlock stopped her just as he felt like he may orgasm in her mouth. He didn’t bring her into the bedroom for a blowjob- he brought her in so they could make love. Her face was cradled in his hands. He stepped out his boxers and laid on the bed. 

“Oh, I suppose you want me to do the work,” she teased as she straddled him. 

“You don’t seem to think it’s work mid-orgasm,” Sherlock said, giving her a smile then pulling her in for a kiss. His hand ran down her back, over her ass, and then between her thighs. He teased her inner thighs until she wiggled just a little, forcing his fingers on her lips. “Eager,” he commented before kissing her again. 

His finger circled her clit slowly while they kissed passionately. Her moans muffled by his mouth and tongue until she couldn’t take it anymore and sat up. She guided herself onto him. His eyes closed as he felt how slick and ready she was for him. 

Abigail began to move slowly with his hands on her hips, guiding her pace and depth. Her movements quickened as his fingertip found her clit again. She leaned forward to grab the top of the sturdy headboard. Close to orgasm, she lost control so her pace became hard and fast. He looked up at her, watching the gorgeous sight of her tits bouncing and her eyes closed with expectation. 

She came hard with one last thrust. His finger stopped as her clit throbbed as he knew it would be too sensitive. She had gotten so wet, even his stomach and thighs were covered. “Oh god,” she cried out, trying to catch her breath. Her chest fell to his and he wrapped his arms around her. Both of their hearts were beating hard but she was still gasping for breath. 

Sherlock rolled her over. He kissed her neck and shoulders while she played with the dark curls on his head. He pressed up against her and she instinctively spread her legs and wrapped them up around his hips. The anticipation was driving him mad. All he wanted now was to come in her. 

His thrusts were slow and deliberate. Abigail’s heels dug into his ass, encouraging him to thrust harder and deeper. His movements grew frantic and hard. Abigail was calling out to him, on the verge of orgasm again. He knew her patterns so well that when he saw her grasp the sheets below him, he was aware of how close she was. 

Sherlock called out her name as he pumped harder. He could feel her starting to contract and orgasm below him. This time was even more intense, he realized. Three more hard thrusts and he grunted as his own orgasm overtook his mind. 

He laid there, on top of her for a few moments, unwilling to give up being inside of her until he had no choice. Sherlock kissed her one final time before rolling on his side. Their breathing was still heavy from the sex. They stared at each other in silence, relishing the afterglow of post-orgasm. 

Abigail got up first to wash up. He watched as she walked away and wondered for a brief moment if she had ever considered the idea of marriage. Of course she has, he thought to himself, she is a woman and women think of such things. 

Abigail returned to see a funny look on his face. “Something wrong?”

“No... I was just thinking,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t pry. Earlier in the summer, she had asked him several times when he was thinking and when he would reply truthfully with “decay rates of corpses outside in the summer”, she began to ask less and less. 

“Oh,” she replied predictably. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, noticing how she was looking at him. 

“How bloody handsome you are,” Abigail said with a smile. 

He smiled back at her before turning off the lamp on the nightstand. “Come here,” he whispered as he pulled her close. 

They fell asleep holding each other until the morning sun started to stream in through the curtains. Sherlock was the first to wake up; he had heard a door close. He sat up and listened again. Now there were footsteps rushing up the stairs. 

Sherlock got out of bed and quickly grabbed his dressing gown just as the person began frantically knocking at the door. 

“Sherlock!” a familiar female voice called out. 

He opened the door to find a very tan and quite upset looking Mrs. Hudson. “Mrs. Hudson, what is wrong?”

“Oh Sherlock, what did you do to Abigail?” she said as she pushed her way in. “She’s gone. I was just in the basement flat to surprise her and her things aren’t there. What happened? Tell me you didn’t treat her so badly that you ran her off! I will never forgive you!”

“Calm down, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock said casually. “It will be explained soon enough. Sit down and I promise I will resolve this for you.”

She was still a mess so she walked into the kitchen to start the kettle while Sherlock went to his bedroom. 

“Abby... you need to get up and get dressed,” he whispered as he pushed on her shoulder. “Come on... get up.”

“Why? I don’t have work and I’m tired,” she whined. “I don’t want to get up.”

“Either get up or I will be forced to let your Aunt walk into this room to see you with her own eyes and I do not believe you would enjoy that every much,” he threatened. 

“WHAT! She’s here?” Abigail said as she flew out of bed. “BUT... she can’t see me here like this! Oh my god!!”

“Abigail Hudson, stop panicking this moment and put clothes on,” Sherlock said as he pulled on his trousers and buttoned a shirt. “We are adults and not a couple of teenagers sneaking around.”

“Right... Oh god, my hair!” Abigail said as she looked in the mirror. “Anyone can look at my hair and know that we’ve been fucking all night.”

“Sherlock! Who are you talking to?” Mrs. Hudson called out from down the hall. 

“Be right there, Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock called out. “Abigail, put a thing in it and tie it up. She’s going to know either way!”

Sherlock was the first to come out of the bedroom. Mrs. Hudson was standing at the end of the hall with her hands on her hips. “What is going on?” she asked. 

“Hi, Auntie,” Abigail said as she emerged from the bedroom, still looking frazzled. “Did you have a nice holiday?”

Mrs. Hudson looked back and forth. “Why... what... what are you doing in Sherlock’s flat? Was there an issue downstairs?”

“Auntie,” Abigail said as she hugged her. “Come sit down for a few moments, I want to hear all about your holiday and tell you about my summer.”

Sherlock made tea while Abigail and Mrs. Hudson talked for a few minutes. The shock never left Mrs. Hudson’s face which worried Abigail greatly. “I know this is incredibly difficult to understand but when you sent him to Florida all those years ago, we met and fell in love.”

“When I got here, we tried to ignore it,” she said which made Sherlock roll his eyes. “But.. you know, when things are right.. they are right.”

“I don’t believe this.” Mrs. Hudson looked at both of them and then directly at Sherlock. “I want a word with you alone.”

“Auntie, you don’t need to do that..” Abigail said. 

“If you want me to accept this, I need to talk to him alone. Abigail, go in the hall and take my bags to my flat,” she said. 

Sherlock watched as Abigail left and knew exactly what was coming even though it was the first time in his life he had experienced it. 

“If you hurt her... if you just leave one day....” Mrs. Hudson started to warn, the protectiveness loud and clear. “I will...”

“There’s no need to threaten,” Sherlock said. “I know this is a bit of a shock. I know this is not what you’d want.... but I love Abby very much and she loves me... despite well, despite of this,” he said as he pointed to his head. “She has been worried for weeks now about you not approving. I’m asking you to not judge so harshly. She is here willingly and happy. And safe.”

Mrs. Hudson looked down at her hands. It was still very confusing. She loved Sherlock like family and wanted him happy too. “Very well,” she said quietly. 

Abigail appeared at the door and looked at both of them. Sherlock gave her a nod which told her that things were alright. She sat down next to her aunt and put her arm around her. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she said. 

“Me too, I missed Baker Street very much,” Mrs. Hudson said. “And the two of you.”


End file.
